


Nothing Good Happens After 2 AM (Or Does It?)

by patwrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drunk Texting, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Getting Together, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter Ships It, Regrets, Stephen-centric, minor Infinity War spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patwrites/pseuds/patwrites
Summary: "Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." -Lao TzuIn which Stephen loves Tony, Tony breaks up with Pepper because he loves her but can't put her in danger, Stephen doesn't dare express his feelings so soon after the breakup, and Peter just really, really ships it.





	Nothing Good Happens After 2 AM (Or Does It?)

Stephen Strange had a few rules he lived his life by. He'd sworn he'd never get involved with Christine ever again, if only to spare her the emotional heartbreak being with him would undoubtedly bring.

He had taken an oath back when he started as a surgeon not to harm people, but to save them, and he still lived by it to this day, despite leaving the medical life behind --powers or no powers, saving lives was the sole purpose of him taking up the mystic arts and the title of Sorcerer Supreme.

Among other things that he didn't care to name right now, Stephen had made a new rule as of recently: do not fall in love with superheroes, and especially not Tony Stark. That rule was proving harder not to break with every second.

It seemed almost impossible to remain neutral around the man, when everything about him demanded attention. His eccentric, public persona made it quite hard not to notice Tony Stark, it was true. But the real man under the armor, the masks, the snark and the shallowness was what truly drew people in like moths to a flame. Who could resist?

Stephen certainly couldn't.

Admittedly, it was a little hard for him to obey his own rule, when he had already broken it. The moment Stephen went through millions and millions of realities, where each time he got to see a different side of Tony's personality, was the moment he was doomed to forever love this man no matter what logic dictated. He hadn't dared, of course, to look beyond the final battle to try and gauge out whether they could have a future together or not, partly because of his integrity and sworn oath not to abuse his power through bias, but partly because he couldn't take the disappointment of rejection or failure in that aspect.

They had remained friends after winning the fight and defeating the Titan successfully, but Stephen tried to the best of his abilities to keep a professional distance from the genius. Not even after the announcement of Tony and Pepper's cancelled wedding and breakup did Stephen push for more than the casual friendship they had fallen into. Stephen knew better than to pursue an emotionally vulnerable person, after all.

Therefore, it did come as a surprise to him when two weeks after the aforementioned breakup Tony turned up at the Sanctum in his orange Audi, carrying a bottle of whiskey and a bag of takeout at 2 in the morning.

"Tony. What brings you here?" Stephen asked. He was standing in the doorway, blocking both entrance and exit, barefoot and clad in some raggedy pajamas with Cloak wrapped around his shoulders protectively. Tony, for his part, looked like he had come out of a red carpet event, black tuxedo prim and proper, hugging his body just perfectly. His eyes, though, were stormy, saddened, and Stephen got the impression a dam was about to break any minute now.

"I bailed from a gala, too much going on in here," Tony pointed at his temple, "to fake a smile and shake hands till morning. Do you feel like thai and a drink? I could use some good company right now."

Tony looked...vulnerable, unsure. Like he was exposing a side of himself he usually kept hidden under lock and key. It flattered and scared Stephen in equal measure, worry bubbling up to the surface the more he stared at the man in front of him, tearing apart at the seams right before his eyes.

"Of course. Come in," Stephen blinked once, then stepped aside and opened the door wider to let Tony in. He nodded at Stephen as he entered and took in the lobby and the various artifacts on display. Stephen watched Tony unbutton his suit jacket after laying the bottle and box of food gently on an old table, then drape it over his left arm.

"Here, let me," he told him. He took the jacket from Tony and handed it over to Cloak to deposit on an empty rack before grabbing the takeout and whiskey. "Do you mind going up to my room? Wong is in the library, and that's the only other place suitable for company."

"Not at all. Lead the way, Stephen."

He nodded, walking ahead of Tony and leading the way to his bedroom. The sorcerer found it quite odd that the other man wasn't using any of his usual nicknames in reference to him, but he attributed it to Tony's current mental or emotional instability.

"Take a seat on the bed, if you want. I can take the chair."

Tony looked at the unmade bed, the obviously thrown in haste covers and disheveled sheets, and turned his eyes on Stephen, looking apologetic.

"You were sleeping. I'm sorry I woke you up."

Stephen shook his head. "I usually wake up in the middle of the night anyway. Don't worry about it." It was a lie, Stephen usually slept till 8 or 9 AM on good days, but Tony did not need to know that. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him, after all.

"Oh," he looked relieved as he sat down on the bed. "But still."

"So, you mentioned a gala?" Stephen swiftly changed the subject. He took the carton of thai food from the table and opened it, the delicious smell and the steam wafting to his nose immediately.

"Just a charity even for a nonprofit organization."

He took out the forks and handed one with a carton to Tony. "Which one? I used to frequent them back in the day." Mainly to brag about his success and the rare conditions he had treated, he didn't add.

"The Maria Stark Organization," Tony mumbled around the forkful of food. It was said so quietly Stephen had no doubt Tony had done it in hopes he wouldn't make it out. Now all this made sense.

"Ah," he hummed in a noncommittal way, "I see. I thought this had to do with your breakup with Pepper Potts."

"Nah, I'm over it," Tony replied and he looked like he actually meant it. "I'm actually the one who came up with the idea."

Well, that was certainly a surprise.

"How come?"

Tony was twisting his fork around, staring into nothing, gaze unfocused and seemingly far, far away. "I realized my life was too dangerous and complicated to have a real, stable marriage and possibly home life with someone, especially a person who isn't part of the superheroing world. And I couldn't do that to Pep." His eyes regained focus, Tony looking back up at Stephen with a bittersweet smile before taking another bite of food. "So I'm not sad about that. I mean, I _am_ a bit sad because we had to end it, obviously. But not wrecked emotionally or anything."

Huh.

Stephen went back to his own food, swirling his fork around while trying to wrap his mind around this newfound information and rearranging everything he knew to fit this new puzzle. Maybe..

"How many years?" he finally asked after a while.

"Twenty seven," Tony replied quietly. "I miss her. She was the only good thing I had growing up – besides Jarvis – and seeing all these...vultures coming to the event bearing her name under the guise of caring about the less fortunate while preying on every weakness or piece of leverage they can gain on anyone.. I knew I had to leave before I either got monumentally drunk to cope with it and ruined this thing, or I started yelling at everybody to get out before I put a whole through their chests with the Iron Man repulsor."

His fists were clenched now, and Stephen feared the plastic fork in his right hand would snap and cut his palm so he got up from the chair, carefully sat down next to Tony and took his fists into his own trembling hands gently. Tony lifted his head up to look at him, eyes brimming with unshed tears. A plethora of conflicting emotions were swimming in the brown recesses of his eyes, too many to distinguish and no feelings any man should feel all at once.

"But you're okay now. Nothing, and I mean **nothing** those people do or say will ever taint the memory of your mother. All that remains and will ever remain of her are her good deeds and her legacy: you."

Tony blinked up at Stephen, finally releasing the tears that had been waiting for their release for too long. Tony's mask fell apart piece by piece, or what remained of it at least, and it was the most stunning thing Stephen had ever witnessed. He resembled a butterfly, finally emerging from his cocoon, free at last of everything that had been restricting him beforehand, free to be himself in all his gorgeous, awe-inspiring beauty. It truly was a thing to behold.

Slowly the tension in Tony's body drained, leaving way to the most open and genuine version of the man Stephen had ever witnessed. The billionaire was bared like an open wound, all for him to prod and test, but Stephen chose to let it close on its own, heal over time and scar gently as any wound should.

They stayed up until the first rays of sun started filtering gently through Stephen's curtains, passing gently whispered secrets and thoughts between each other. A connection deeper than anything either of them had ever experienced was formed that night. At around 6 AM they both fell asleep on Stephen's bed with Tony slumped over the sorcerer, curled like cat on his chest.

It was the most peaceful sleep Stephen had had since taking up the Mystic Arts.

* * *

Tony left quickly after he woke up around 11 AM, saying he had a UN meeting about the Accords to attend but promising dinner that night or the night after. Stephen didn't know what any of this meant – if it even meant anything at all – and he dared not hope for anything more than just what it was. That was enough for him.

He decided to study some more that day, and so sought Wong out to let him know he'd be retreating to his personal corner in the library to read some ancient tomes.

"Alright," Wong said with a proud smile. Stephen knew what it meant despite Wong never telling him outright – he was no genius like Tony, but his brilliance wasn't anything to ignore either – and it both pleased and terrified him. Sure, getting Wong's approval and pride did wonders to Stephen's ego, but that also meant lots and lots of responsibilities and expectations. He shuddered at the thought of failure.

Stephen nodded. He grabbed his books of choice, levitated them to his table and carried a cup of herbal tea over before sitting down. Cloak came floating over to him to take a look at what he was doing; deeming it uninteresting, it took off to some unknown place in the building to do its own thing, leaving Stephen alone with his books and tea.

* * *

"I know you're there, you know," Stephen spoke up approximately three hours later while working on translating a cuneiform text.

"Aw man," Peter lamented. He plopped down from the ceiling with grace then headed over to Stephen's table. "I was sure I got you this time!"

"The day you catch me by surprise is the day I retire from saving the world," Stephen smirked. "What are you doing here? Didn't you have that trip downtown?"

"Nah," Peter drew a chair and sat down on it, dropping his backpack on the ground and removing his mask. His hair was a mess. "The weather's bad, it got cancelled."

Stephen glanced at the window to see that, indeed, it was raining. And quite heavily.

The teenager leaned over the table slightly to take a look at what Stephen was working on but huffed in disappointment when he couldn't decipher what it said.

"Aunt May's working an extra shift at the hospital and Mr. Stark is busy with a UN meeting. Crime has been pretty low these past months and Ned has to read 'The Great Gatsby' for lit class."

"So you came here."

"And so I came here. It's not much of a trouble, is it?" Peter asked anxiously as an afterthought.

Stephen shook his head, smiling. "No, it's okay. I've told you you're welcome here any time." _'And I actually really enjoy your company, too,'_ was left unsaid.

"Cool," Peter brightened. "Mind if do my history and physics homework?" he asked, already taking his books out of his bag. Stephen shook his head then turned back to his translating, happy to have Peter's constant scribble on paper, occasional hums and huffs, and anxious taps on the wooden table as company.

A couple of hours later he yawned and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion from staring at black on yellow for so long, and noticed Peter slumped forward with his face smooshed against the history textbook, snoring lightly. A smile creeped up on his face at the sight, his heart swelling with affection.

A sudden knock at the door drew Stephen's attention from the peaceful teenager. He sat up swiftly and started making his way to the door. When he opened it he was greeted by the sight of a Tony soaked to the bone with a broken umbrella in one hand and a wet paper bag in the other. He looked absolutely miserable.

"What're you grinning about? Open the damn door before the water reaches my lungs," Tony scowled at him. Stephen chuckled but stepped aside, making room for the dripping man.

"Keep it down, Peter's asleep."

"Peter's here?" Tony asked in a whisper while he tried to dispose of his wet jacket and shoes.

"He came after school," Stephen explained. "Why are you wet, anyway?"

"I thought I'd give Happy the night off and come here myself since I was in the neighborhood but the damned wind broke my umbrella. I'm never walking again."

Stephen snorted, to which he received a venomous glare. "Come on upstairs to get changed. I'll lend you some clothes until yours dry."

Tony nodded, following him upstairs quietly. Stephen rummaged in his closet for a pair of pants and a t-shirt that wouldn't be too loose on Tony and handed them to him before turning around. Tony shuffled a bit behind him, then called out for Stephen to turn around.

"Why didn't you just magically dry my clothes?"

 ~~ _'Because I'd rather see you in mine?'_~~ "Because I can't abuse my powers just like that, Tony."

"You don't know how to do it, do you?" Tony teased, an easy smirk on his face. He was toweling his face and hair now, fluffing it up so beautifully, the picture he made almost irresistible to Stephen. His hands itched to card his fingers through his hair.

"Of course I do, Tony. Don't be silly, I'm the Sorcerer Supreme."

"My apologies, your highness."

Tony took the wet paper bag in his hands then started walking downstairs to the library. Stephen followed a little ways behind, unashamedly admiring the view of Tony in his a bit too long pants.

"What've you got there?" he asked.

"Oh, this? Some churros. I found an old mad sitting in the rain on my way here. Poor thing had four more to sell but he couldn't go home until he did. So I bought them."

Stephen's heart swelled for the second time in the past half an hour. Sometimes it baffled him how kind Tony was, and how people seemed to overlook it so easily.

When they reached the library Peter was awake, play fighting with the Cloak on the floor.

"Hmm," Stephen cleared his throat. Both Peter and Cloak froze in an awkward position, mid-wrestle, the former slowly turning eyes big as saucers in their direction.

"Mr. Stark!" the kid exclaimed, messily disentangling himself from Cloak's clutches and coming to stand in front of Tony. Tony, for his part, looked highly amused to see the mess of a teenager standing before him.

"Sup, kid. I see you're having fun without me."

Peter blushed bright red and started stammering. "I- no- but- you see-"

"Relax, Pete. Here, have a churro," Tony shoved the bag in Peter's hands, shutting him up successfully.

Stephen watched the exchange with a smile on his face, amused but also filled with a certain warmth only these two could provide him with. It was the most curious of things.

"Oh, almost forgot to ask. Are you free tomorrow night, Doc?" Tony asked right as he sat down on Stephen's favourite armchair.

"I can be. Why?"

"I have this gala I have to attend and I need a plus one," the brunet replied around the bite of churro in his mouth. Peter nearly choked himself on his, drawing Stephen's attention. He raised an eyebrow.

"Here, kid. Take it easy," Tony fussed over the teen, patting him on the back and handing him a water bottle. "So, gala?" he asked after Peter's face lost the red around the cheeks.

"Yeah, sure. I'm free," the sorcerer answered and tried very hard to ignore the feeling in his stomach that resembled too much the notorious butterflies.

"Great," Tony beamed.

The three of them spent the evening together. The adults talked with Peter about his science project and the trip to Stark Industries next month, then they watched 'A New Hope'. At about 9:30 PM Tony woke Peter up and offered to take him home. The rain had stopped by then, but it was too dark outside to let the teenager walk home on his own. Admittedly, he was a very strong, could stop a bus with his bare hands teenager, but a teen nonetheless.

"Should Happy pick you up tomorrow?" Tony asked in the corridor as he waited for Peter to tie his shoelaces.

"No, I can open a portal."

"Then be at the Compound at 8:30. We'll drive from there, if it doesn't bother you."

Stephen's hands trembled imperceptibly more strongly for a few seconds at the mention of driving, but he linked them behind his back to hide the movement from sight. "No, not a problem. See you tomorrow evening, Tony."

"Good night, Stephen."

"Good night, Mr. Strange! And thank you for having me," Peter bid his goodbyes then opened the door to step outside.

"Good night, Peter. Good luck on your test tomorrow and don't be a stranger, you're always welcome."

Tony nodded one more time before stepping outside and starting walking besides Peter towards Queens. Stephen watched their retreating forms for a bit before closing the door and going back to the library to clean up, all the while thinking about what to wear the next evening. He wondered if Christine had any of his old suits and tuxedos still at her place. He'd have to make a call tomorrow then.

* * *

The next day came too soon for the tired wizard's liking. He woke up with a headache so bad Stephen feared his head might implode, and to top it all off his hands were acting up today of all days. The trembling got so bad by the time he got out of his room that he couldn't even shave – he nearly cut his throat on his third attempt.

Stephen didn't want to let that get in the way of his day, so he went around the issue and continued on. Except everything seemed to get progressively worse as the day went on. Christine didn't answer her phone the first two times he rang, then on the third she picked up and yelled at him that she was busy working and didn't have time for his absurd magic business. Stephen didn't even get the chance to say hi by the time she hung up on him.

He tried Wong as a plan B, but at the sorcerer's blank stare all of Stephen's hopes went down the drain.

He spent the day pacing back and forth, trying to figure out how to get a suit without actually paying for one since he barely had a dollar to his name. By the time 7:35 rolled around Stephen was having a fully blown anxiety attack and was ready to curl up in a ball and stay there for the rest of eternity.

He wasn't one for attacks of any kind, usually being able to keep his cool through the most stressful of situations. It seemed like even he had a breaking point.

Through the panicky haze, Stephen managed to get his cell and dial Tony's phone number.

"Make it quick, Stephen. Pepper is about to strangle me with a bowtie," Tony answered.

"Tony, I- I don't think I can make it tonight," he barely got out.

"You can't make it- What do you mean?" Tony asked. "Strange, are you okay?"

"I, I gotta go, Tony. Bye!"

He hung up quickly, then threw the phone on his bed, hoping it would hit its target but not really caring at the moment. Stephen slid down to the floor again, with his head between his hands, questioning his entire existence and the path he had chosen for himself.

Some time later, he didn't know exactly how much had passed, Tony knocked on his door before gently entering. He didn't make a sound, just entered, closed the door behind him, then slid down slowly next to Stephen.

"Wong said you seemed distressed. Something about not having a suit to wear?"

Stephen didn't say anything. Instead, he kept staring straight ahead, refusing to meet the billionaire's eyes.

"I could've bought you one. Or lent it to you, if you really care about that stuff – though I don't! You should've just asked."

"S'not tha' 'sy."

"Hmm? What's that?"

"It's not that easy," Stephen repeated, still a mumble but a more intelligible one.

"Sure it is, silly. You just go 'Tony, I don't have anything to wear tonight. Could you help me with that?' And I'd say 'Yes, of course. You're one of my closest friends.' Not that hard, see?"

Stephen lifted his head off his knees to finally look at Tony. The man's eyes were more sunken since last night, and he seemed to be in pain. It took Stephen a moment to realize it was because of him.

"I really am?"

"Yeah. You and Rhodey. You're up there. I mean, the kid is pretty hard competition to beat, I'm warning you," Tony chuckled and Stephen joined him. "But you're definitely there."

"Thank you, Tony."

"Don't sweat it. So, how about that gala, hmm?" he said, standing up and offering him a hand to lift him up. Stephen took it with a smile, feeling his heart relaxed for the first time today.

In the end Tony was the one who shaved him and then lent him one of his suits, which suspiciously fitted Stephen perfectly. He chose not to comment on it.

"Ready?"

Stephen took a deep breath in. "Yes. Let's go."

Tony put on his armor sunglasses. "Friday, don't wait up."

They got into the limo driven by Happy, and got to the gala on time. The paparazzi were waiting for them at the entrance, cameras and mics at the ready. Stephen smiled where he knew he had to, but otherwise kept his distance and tried to blend in as much as possible. Kind of hard to do when in the company of Tony Stark, but one could try.

The evening itself was boring. Light chatter, dim lights, soft music, boring atmosphere. But what truly made that night magical – and Stephen did not use that term lightly – was Tony's constant presence by his side. The billionaire never left his side for more than mere minutes to chat up a potential investor for SI or an important figure at the UN and the Accords. They danced throughout the night every chance they got, talked about everything and anything over glasses of champagne and whiskey, then around 2 AM got in the back of the limousine, delightfully inebriated and made their way home.

What happened next wasn't Stephen's proudest moment. Granted, he had been drunk, – both on alcohol and happiness – in love, and stupidly confident, so he leaned over to Tony, spared a second to gaze at his sinfully plump and soft lips, then closed the distance and kissed him with all he had.

He didn't expect, though, to be kissed back.

"Oh God, yes. I've been waiting for this for far too long," Tony moaned into the kiss between gasped breaths. He grabbed Stephen's lapel to pull him in closer and deepen the kiss, and he honest to god thought he was about to come in his pants right then and there.

"Hm hm. Boss? We're here," Happy interrupted awkwardly before things got to be too heated. As if coming to his sense, Stephen pulled away abruptly from Tony's lips and wiped his mouth, straightened his jacket and made for the door.

"I'm uhm, sorry. Tony. Good night. Thanks for... yeah," he stammered then decided to spare himself any further embarrassment and got out of the car, rushing up the steps of 177A Bleecker Street and shutting the door firmly behind him.

"You idiot.." Stephen sighed, leaned against the door. He trudged through the building up to his bedroom, shut the door and collapsed on the bed face first. He fell asleep in seconds.

* * *

The next day started in a similar fashion. His head was killing him.

At first, Stephen was confused. That is, until everything from the night before came rushing back and he groaned. He wanted to die.

He picked his head up from the pillow, grabbed blindly for the phone hidden somewhere in the sheets, and checked it with dread. Four unread text messages, two missed calls, and one voicemail.

**Tony S.**  
**Hey u gott insdie arlihgt?**

**Tony S.**  
**Ples ansr**

**Tony S.**  
**I wish I wa kssng u en**

**Tony S.**  
**Rn***

Stephen's heartbeat sped up, and not in anxiety this time. He tapped on the screen and braced himself for the voice mail.

_"Hey, Stephen. So, I'm having the biggest headache in my life right now. I bet you, too," he chuckled. "Anyway, that's not why I called. I know last night was pretty messy.. and I didn't mean for that to happen. Wait, no, that came out wrong. I wanted to kiss you senseless, I still do. But not like that. So, I apologize. I was drunk, and that's no excuse to take advantage of you, but I apologize."_

The voicemail ended there, so abruptly that it left Stephen wanting more. God, this whole thing was a wreck. Tony was blaming himself for it? God dammit. He had to fix this now.

He got dressed, draped Cloak over his shoulders and conjured a portal to Tony's workshop. He found the genius slumped over the worktable, facefirst into a can of what Stephen guessed was motor oil, looking miserable as ever.

"Tony," he said. Tony lifted his head up so quickly he knocked the can over and spilled the oil all over the table but he didn't seem to care. He got up and started walking towards Stephen.

"You might wanna," he motioned for Tony's face. Tony startled, grabbed a discarded rag and wiped his face in a haste before throwing it aside.

"Stephen. You're here. Why?"

"I came to apologize."

"What? What for?"

"For last night. I was the one who initiated the kiss and I was out of line. I am sorry."

Tony seemed to want to say something, then he closed his mouth. He pondered his next works for a moment then opened his mouth again.

"Well I'm not."

Stephen was confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not sorry you kissed me. Or that I kissed you back. That was the best goddamn kiss I've had in a long while. I just wish the circumstances were different."

Stephen was left gaping at Tony, not believing his ears. Did Tony just.. But he did, and now the ball was in Stephen's court. It was his choice now. Do or do not.

"I'm in love with you," he blurted out. "Have been for a while. And I wanna kiss you, Tony, I wanna kiss you so badly right now. But that's not all I want from you. So if this is just a fling for you-"

Tony brought up a finger to press to his lips, shushing him completely.

"Shhh. Shut up, you talk too much. I love you too, you big, dumb idiot. Now just kiss me already."

"Oh alrig-"

Tony's lips on his own shut him up immediately, and Stephen melted into the kiss, turning into putty in his arms. It wasn't perfect by far, but it was perfect to him. The best damn thing in his life, and that was saying a lot about his life at the moment.

"I knew it!" Peter exclaimed from the entrance of the workshop, backpack slung over his shoulder. They pulled apart, Stephen's face flushed both from the kiss and embarrassment, while Tony just smiled smugly.

"Good job, kid. Maybe you should be a detective in your spare time instead of a masked web-slinger."

They laughed together, Tony and Peter getting into their usual science talks and father-son moments while Stephen leaned back against a table, watching the two with love and fondness in his heart and eyes. Yes, this was good. This was very good.

**Author's Note:**

> I really debated posting this or not, but after a few days of having it in my fan fiction folder just staying idly, I just said "Fuck it" and posted it.
> 
> I really hope you like it. Please tell me what you thought of it by leaving Kudos, a comment or finding me on tumblr @armoredavengers :)


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